Tag Archives: courage

Doors

17 Feb

Doors

Ever notice when you take
Your friends on your house tour
There’s usually one room that gets
Passed by with a detour?

“That room’s messy!” you say in terror
“Don’t need to go in there!”
What would people think of you
If they were made aware?

Of what’s behind the door that’s closed
The room not up to par
Would they think that much less of you
If that door was ajar?

Here’s two points to think about
Next time your tour is given
The goal by which the journey through
Your dwelling should be driven

Number one, to open up
To let people inside
To show them who the real you is
And have nothing to hide

It’s not about your showing off
All of the stuff you’ve got
Letting yourself be defined
By all the things you’ve bought

It’s all about what’s in that room
That you don’t want exposed
The room that will define you best
Is one that you keep closed

The second reason to reveal
That isolated place
Is to see if your guests will
Rebuff it or embrace

By opening up to your friends
They’ll open up to you
To get their honest reaction
Give them your complete view

You may not like what they may think
If they in fact rebuff
But at least you’ve learned about
The image that they bluff

‘Cause anyone who judges others
In an adverse way
Based on what’s behind that door
Should their own room display

And on the other side of things
You might just realize
Despite all your embarrassment
Most people won’t chastise

‘Cause every dwelling has a room
That’s messy, odd or weird
People who open those doors
Are ones to be revered

Because they say, “This room is me!
So what if I’m a slob?
I’d rather throw my underwear
On floors than be a snob!

I’d rather fill a room with merch
From things that give me zeal
Than be the type of person who
Condemns for being real!”

So hats off to the folks that open
All of their closed doors
And hopefully they will inspire
You to open yours

                              ~Miro

Warrior’s Prayer

12 Feb

Warrior’s Prayer

The common routine
When one goes to pray
Is to get down on knees
And in one spot stay

Clasp hands together
Keep eyes closed tight
In an attempt
To not see the plight

That may work just fine
If you wish to give praise
But most don’t give prayer
Until darkest days

And when the storm comes
I’ve found it works best
To not just curl up
And beg to be blessed

And that’s a main problem
With people who follow
If you beg for a break
Then your prayers are just hollow

The point’s not to live
The easiest life
It’s to build up the strength
To endure the strife

When hardships befall
Don’t beg for an end
Get up while you pray
For the strength to transcend

Open your eyes
As you ask for resolve
And accept that motion
Is the key to evolve

Although this concept
To a few may appall
A prayer on your knees
Will do no good at all

It’s been my experience
When times are their worst
The best start to prayer
Is to get up first

One foot then the other
Keep myself moving
To God above
And to myself proving

I’m not looking for lenience
I’m not begging for pity
I know parts of life
Are not going to be pretty

I pray to the Father
For strength added on
To what’s already in me
To my own employed brawn

Upgrade my power
And my fortitude, raise
Enhance my patience
Amid all the craze

In the book of Isaiah
Forty-one: ten
“I will strengthen and help you”
The Lord said, amen

But strength will not do you
Much good at all
If you’re hidden away
Curled up in a ball

The warrior’s way
Is to charge with no fear
And the warrior’s prayer
Is made in high gear

                         ~Miro

The Egotist

5 Feb

The Egotist

There once was a person who took
Themselves too seriously
Their uptight behaviour was wrought
In the name of being artsy

Their work focused all on themselves
On their torment and strife and their woes
A message of darkness and dread
Is what all of their work did propose

Hours and hours of thought
Put into the things that offended
But missing a final redemption 
No mention of things that were splendid

No mission of nourishing hope
Through color or sculpture or prose
No mention of beautiful coda 
Only the difficult throes

Spreading their ache to whoever
Would bother to listen to them
Maybe those few hoped to find
An inspirational gem

But all that they found were the cries
Of a tortured and tormented soul
Nothing to invigorate
Or empower, stir or console

A few may have felt just the same
And wallowed along with the scribe
Creating a miserable horde
Of people who only subscribe

To the idea that everything’s hopeless
The practice of self-pitying
Never wanting to move forward
To the past is to what they’d all cling

And then there are those who will say
“This kind of thing isn’t for me”
They balk at the darkness and dread
And from then on whenever they see

Some kind of artistic endeavor
They think back to how that last piece
Did nothing to make their enjoyment
Of life on this planet increase

Egotists just want reaction
“You can’t only have joyful views!”
But if it’s destruction you want
I’d recommend watching the news

It’s there every night on TV
Right there in your own living room
Murders and wars and disasters
The everyday six o’clock gloom

Artists do have the rare privilege
Of controlling moods they incite
Why would an artist depress
When instead they could help ignite?

The spirit of hope within someone
To give them the strength to push on
To be a supportive companion
When they feel that all hope is gone

Artists, take heed of this warning
Be mindful what message you send
Within your artwork or your writings
You may be creating a trend

Of work that does no good for others
Or you may be creating a stigma
That art is depressing and weird
In your journey to be an enigma

I hear so many folks say
They’re surprised that my writing has soul
That there’s wisdom and courage within
And that inspiration’s my goal

Surprised, because of how much
Negative work they’ve all seen
So don’t be a part of the problem
Be a part of the vaccine

Don’t be an Egotist
And focus just on your own plight
Be an Artist and use
Your talents to awaken might

                                   ~Miro

Warriors

4 Feb
Warriors

The knight fastens his armor
And sheaths his sword
And rides into battle
Against the oncoming horde

Swords and shields clash
And the warrior battles
Till the life leaves his eyes
And the death bell rattles

The Brave smears war paint
Across his stone cheek
Against the enemy’s rifles
His chances are bleak

But he draws back his bow
Fires into the blue
Defends his home land
Till bullets rip through

The Sarge laces his boots
And slaps a clip in
“You wanna live forever?”
He barks with a grin

He bursts on the beach
Unleashes gunfire
Fights till his last breath
Amid the blood and the mire

The father kisses his babies
Then kisses his wife
He’s off to the factory
To make a new life

He works himself ragged
To pay for their food
Till his bones and his sinew
Have all come unglued

The daughter cancels her plans
To be with her mother
Just a night out with friends
There’ll be another

She caresses her forehead
With a cool and wet towel
Mother gives a warm smile
Through the cancer’s cold scowl

These are warriors
Who give of themselves
And not for rewards
To stack upon shelves

They don’t do it for riches
Or glory or laws
They do it for love
That’s the warrior’s cause

                                    ~Miro

Reach

2 Feb

Reach

Reach

Some things may seem
So far out of reach
But unfulfilled dreams
Have something to teach

You can’t fall in darkness
When plans go awry
Nothing good comes
When you just sit and cry

Instead you should hold on
To this timeless aid:
“Best try and fail
Than live life afraid”

Afraid of the critics
Of embarrassment
Afraid that they’ll laugh
Afraid you’ll lament

Afraid of the work
That success demands
Afraid of commitment
That honor commands

Afraid that the ring
Is out of your reach
And attempting to grab it
Will cause you a breach

Know that your fear
Is reducing your span
Ignoring mine’s when
My full reach began

Yes, it may be
A bit hard to believe
But this warrior poet
Has fear up his sleeve

I talk much of courage
And going all out
But that doesn’t mean
There’s no whisper of doubt

The trick is to face it
Confront it head on
It’ll never disperse
It’ll never be gone

It’ll always be whispering
Instilling a doubt
It’s all up to you
How much it gains clout

I’ve found that the more
I’ve said, “Yes, you’re there
I hear what you’re saying
And I still don’t care”

The weaker that voice
Of doubt has become
The more to my courage
That it will succumb

You won’t win every battle
Not all dreams come true
But through every failure
One thing can accrue

The strength to quell fear
With all of your fire
As you extend your full reach 
To the tip of the spire

                           Miro

You’ll Have To Kill Me

18 Sep
You’ll Have To Kill Me
 
There was a Warrior named Peace
The irony was grand
Other’s threats would not surcease
Fore he would take a stand
 
There would be those who’d warn of pain
But Peace said, “Not enough
Unless it’s death, it’s all in vain”
He’d boldly call their bluff
 
“Financial ruin!” some would crow
But Peace would then retort
“While I still breathe there is no woe”
Those threats young Peace would thwart
 
Time and time again they’d try
To strike fear in his soul
But Peace would never quake or cry
He’d dare a tougher goal
 
“You’ll have to kill me” he would give
A warning of his own
“You’ll win when I no longer live
When I am dust and bone”
 
And this is how young Peace did learn
That cowards don’t spill blood
They do not fight or cut or burn
Each threat is just a dud
 
Words used to intimidate
The comfort-addled weak
Quick to threaten, scold, berate
And dishearten the meek
 
But when a Warrior does raise
The stakes to death and life
These threateners are in a daze
So few unsheathe their knife
 
What they desire has low cost
They’re unwilling to pay
The price of fury and exhaust
To get their selfish way
 
Times have changed and very few
Are called to pay that price
They’ll use just words to threaten you
But never will they slice
 
They’ll talk and talk but never pound
They’ll urge but never slit
In idle threats no one has drowned
At least, no one with grit
 
                       ~Miro

The Root of All Fears

11 Aug
The Root of All Fears
 
There was a man ‘was ‘fraid of death
It spread to all this thoughts
The fear of breathing his last breath
Left his thin will in knots
 
The fear of that dark, patient reaper
Was root of all dread
Every scare, funk, fright and doubt
Was thanks to Mr. Dead
 
He lived out his entire life
In fear of his demise
And when it came, with his last breath
And closing of his eyes
 
Still he clung by fingernails
And wheezed for leniency
But Death is absolutely fair
And never shows mercy
 
There was a gal ‘was ‘fraid of death
It coloured every day
Despite a stunning canvas
Death would taint life with dismay
 
Every single moment had
A mark of coming doom
A marriage, child’s birth, even
A flower in full bloom
 
Every wondrous moment rotted
With the thought of loss
Nothing took away the fear
No bible, no gold cross
 
No quotes, no books, no meditation
Eased her of her fear
One day her heart exploded when
The Reaper did appear
 
There was a child ‘was ‘fraid of death
That fear was planted early
Her mommy and her daddy said
That death turned straight hair curly
 
They taught her death was to be feared
Because loss causes pain
And also taught that happiness
Is only when you gain
 
And so she grew and gained and was
Quite happy ‘till she lost
But then she gained again which caused
A thawing of the frost
 
Until the day that Mr. Dead
Arrived on her front door
She dropped and sobbed in terror for
Her coda on the floor
 
There was a Warrior ‘was not
Afraid of death and so
Since death is the root of all fears
His life did not have woe
 
He made his peace with Mr. Dead
And said “When you are ready”
And lived each day as though his last
With power, poise, steady
 
The ones who lived in fear
The ones who were afraid to die
Called him crazy as they tainted
Flowers and the sky
 
But Warrior, his deal made firm
Saw colours bright and vivid
No tainting, simply pure and true
Which made the normals livid
 
Each moment, no matter how small
Was special and serene
Impending doom did not besmirch
The red and blue and green
 
When Mr. Dead chose to collect
The price we all must pay
The Warrior settled the fee
Promptly as he did say
 
“As it so happens I woke up
This morning and did ponder
This may be my final day
And so I should not squander
 
I lived it as each other day
As if were my last
I pay the toll with no regrets
My life has been quite vast”
 
Mr. Dead collected and
The Warrior did die
Just like all the others but
The Reaper gave a sigh
 
“If only all would live while they
Still breathe instead of fear
Such a waste, to let my toll
Rob them of all their cheer”
 
                       ~Miro